Bad Teacher
by Winter-Widow1791
Summary: Natasha has been acting strange lately, and her friends become suspicious when she spends a lot of time going over her 'project' with the handsome art teacher. Romanogers High School AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everybody, I hope you guys are having a wonderful day, wherever you may be and I have come to you with a new Romanogers AU Story yay! So before you guys get started, I want to appy polly loogies (I apologize) for any errors, typos etc. I just finished writing a 10 page research paper and I didn't have any energy left to proofread this thoroughly. With that being said, Enjoy!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I, sadly do not own anything.**

* * *

Maria sighed for what seemed like the 20th time, as she looked at her watch again.

"Where is she? It's almost time for class to start, and if she is late again, I'm pretty sure Fury will freak."

"Don't you mean Fury will get furious." Clint laughed at his own joke.

Maria was not at all amused, "I'm serious, I'm positive she will get detention until she's twenty-five. This is the 4th day in a row that she is late."

Now it was Clint's turn to sigh, "Relax, I'm sure Nat is getting out of the car as we speak, and walking those short, cute little legs of her to class."

Maria nodded, "Yeah…" She looked down the hall and behold there was Natasha walking as fast as her legs could carrY her. "Oh, there she is." She waved.

Clint looked in her direction, "Yup."

"So nice of you to finally join us. One more tardy and Principal Fury, will have to give you detention." Maria stated as Natasha was in close proximity of her.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Lucky me." She stopped in front of Maria and Clint.

Mr. Rogers cleared his throat from behind them, "Hm, Miss Romanov, can I see you during lunch?"

Natasha averted her gaze from both Maria and Clint and turned to see Mr. Rogers trying to hide a smirk, "Yes, I will come by this lunch to your office."

"Great." The warning bell had gone off. "So, I best be going to my class, and you kids too as well."

They all nodded.

"Good, I'll see you later." He gave one final gaze at Natasha before walking and running into none other than Miss. Carter. Ugh.

There have been rumors of both of them secretly being together. And the way she kept grasping his arm and laughing that annoying cackle of hers, made her want to go over there and yank her arms out of her sockets.

Steve turned his head and managed to find the gaze of Natasha, looking defeated and angry.

"Hello, Natasha!" He snapped his fingers. "Earth to Natasha."

Natasha almost startled herself, "What?" She looked at Clint clearly annoyed that he ruined a moment she was having.

"What's wrong with you? You seem kinda flustered." Maria concurred in agreement.

Natasha subconsciously patted down her really short, black pleated skirt.

She shrugged it off, "Just a little tired."

Maria squinted her eyes, "Alright, but why do you have to see Mr. Rogers during lunch?"

"Because he wants to discuss my art project, he feels it needs some work. So, he said to meet him during lunch." She concluded. "Anyways, let's get inside, class is about to start." She pushed past them and walked into their science class.

Both Maria and Clint have each other perplexed looks before walking inside the classroom as well.

* * *

Much later, Natasha paused outside the door of Mr. Rogers class, suddenly unsure whether or not she should enter, though her lunchtime meeting with Steve had been the only thing on her mind all day. But now that she was actually faced with the prospect of seeing him again, for the first time since the incredible night spent in each other's arms.

"Come on, girl" she lectured herself. "You can do this. Just march in there and ask Steve what's going on between us." She closed her eyes and braced her shoulders as she attempted to dismiss the doomsday scenarios her mind had spent the morning conjuring up. The ones where Steve laughed at her, and at the importance of what had happened between them last night, where he belittled their passion and her love, and relegated the most magical evening of her life to a one-night stand, before casually mentioning that he'd decided to move on with the more age-appropriate and presumably more experienced Ms. Carter. Ugh.

"Stop it!"she scolded herself. "Steve would never say those things. He might regret what happened, but he would never treat you like yesterday's garbage. He's not like that!" She opened her eyes and glared determinedly at the door. "I can do this," she muttered, biting her lip as she pushed open the classroom door. "Steve"? she called out tentatively.

A pile of papers clattered on the desk. A few moments later, Steve appeared from the other room connected to his class, the art studio room where they had the working stations and also an office of his very own.

"Natasha" Steve said with a smile, which made Natasha feel unaccountably better.

"You said lunch, didn't you?" she asked quietly as she laid her books down on the polished student desk table. "I told Clint and Maria it was a private meeting, so they won't bother to look for me here."

He walked closer and paused a few feet away from her. "Yes, lunch, I did say lunch." He glanced uneasily around the deserted room. "Perhaps it would be better if we discussed this in my office."

She nodded silently, turning to follow him as he led the way back toward his door. When the door had clicked shut behind them, an uneasy silence fell.

"Are you okay, Steve"? Natasha asked after a moment, silently cursing her inability to wait him out.

A wry smile quirked Steve's mouth. "I think that should be my question to you, don't you Natasha, As your teacher, and you as my…"

"Girl?" she supplied brightly, feeling a flush of confidence as his grin became a full-fledged smile. "Sorry, Steve, I've never been too good at being the damsel-in-waiting. And I'm not much for deep meaningful silences, you might have noticed."

"You're nervous," he concluded correctly. "You don't need to be, Natasha."

She shrugged and averted her gaze. "I don't know," she murmured uncomfortably. "Never done this morning-after routine before, remember?"

He lowered his eyes. "I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan to run into Sharon this morning. I thought we would have a chance to speak of this privately in the car."

"Sharon." She thought, experiencing a mild pang of rage for the annoying blonde of Ms. Carter. She'd never been quite sure of the extent of the relationship between the English teacher and Steve, and hadn't pried into it further for reasons that really didn't bear close scrutiny. But she was suddenly conscious of her age and inexperience in a way that she never had been before, not even with Bucky. She took a deep breath. "About Ms. Carter, Steve..."

He looked up to regard her steadily. "Yes?"

She flushed but continued gamely onward. "What about Ms. Carter, Steve"?

He compressed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes...I can see where this is heading. It's probably something we should have discussed before we...before." He swallowed. "My relationship with Ms. Carter and your relationship with Bucky."

Natasha winced and bowed her head. "Guess I asked for that one." She took another deep breath. "Well, Bucky and I had a fight...No, actually, we had the fight."

Bucky has been Natasha's boyfriend for the past year, he's actually older than her and out of school. He's rebellious and has done shady things, but Natasha has always liked a bad boy and felt extremely attracted to him. She cares about Bucky like he cares for her too, but they argue to much. And that led to Natasha talking about her problems with Bucky to Steve when he found her crying outside of school one day. Steve was her teacher and she trusted him. That led them to spend time together and got to really know each other. Which caused her to fall for him.

His eyes gleamed in the shadowed room as he asked tentatively, "Do you...still love him?"

"Maybe," she replied after a moment, determined upon complete honesty, no matter how awkward it made things. They'd always been honest with one another, it was one of the things about their relationship that she cherished most. "I've never been absolutely sure about what I feel for him. I guess at first, I loved the idea of him. He was dangerous and sexy and forbidden...the ultimate rebel you know?" Her eyes took on a faraway glint. "But after what happened with the attempted robbery..." She shivered. "Well, let's just say, danger isn't looking all that tempting anymore."

"And I'm safe," Steve concluded, not sounding at all happy about it.

Her short burst of laughter dripped irony. "Safe? You're about as far from safe as it gets, Steve. Being with you could get me into way more trouble than being with Bucky, and not just from my Mom, but also us. Your career as a teacher could be over if anyone finds out."

Steve bit back a smile. "I see your point. Sorry."

She nodded her acceptance of his apology. "But you're a different kind of dangerous, Steve, You're not safe, but you're not...dark." She shrugged, helpless to convey her meaning more precisely, but Steve was nodding his comprehension. "So Bucky and I are finished. For good." She looked back up at him expectantly. "Your turn."

He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "I can't tell you the state of my relationship with Ms. Carter," he said after a moment. She stiffened, and he rushed to reassure her. "Simply because I've never known the state of our relationship. I really have no clear idea of how she feels about me."

"I don't care how she feels about you, Steve!" Natasha retorted, exasperated. "I want to know how you feel about her!"

Steve silently looked at his hand. "I don't know," he said finally, raising his gaze to meet hers. "At first I didn't allow myself to think about it." He regarded her for a moment, then continued, "But I do know...that whatever was between us doesn't compare to what I feel for you, Natasha."

Natasha exhaled gustily, as though a great weight had been lifted from her chest. "Really?" she whispered softly.

He smiled. "Really."

Natasha was across the room in a flash, wrapping her arms around his neck, causing him to fall back against his desk with a muffled thump. "I'm so glad. I tried not to be worried, but-"

"I understand," he murmured, burying his face in her fragrant hair. "This is hideously complicated Nat, and in all honesty, probably a very bad idea. It does us no good to pretend otherwise. But Ms. Carter is not an obstacle to us, I promise."

Natasha hugged him more tightly. "Neither is Bucky. So I guess we can start dealing with the other sixty-seven million problems now, huh?" She bit her lip, deciding that it would be easier to bring up the next uncomfortable subject while her cheek was nestled against his shirt and she didn't have to see his face. "I guess you should know that we should be careful and try not to bring any attention to ourselves." She felt his arms stiffen around her, but he didn't let go.

She took a deep breath. "I'm, well, I've been on the pill for a couple of years, not 'cause I've been having sex, which, of course, you know I haven't been, anyway, because you-...It's a female thing, which I don't want to talk about, because it's gross and really embarrassing, but-"

A gentle finger pressed against her lips, and she felt a chuckle rumble through Steve's chest. "I understand," He murmured, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

Suddenly she became aware that Steve was becoming aroused, their close proximity revealing to her the physical reaction to her presence that he had previously been at great pains to hide.

"Guess you weren't kidding about feeling for me," she giggled, her face flushing with embarrassed pleasure.

Steve coughed as he released her, "Ah, well...this isn't exactly the place to discuss it, is it?"

Natasha rubbed up against him enticingly, reveling in the feeling of power over his body. Her relief at knowing Steve didn't regret what had happened between them left her feeling almost giddy and more than a tiny bit reckless. "Oh, I don't know..." she purred. "The door's locked, isn't it?"

He tried to frown at her, clearing his throat in his usual 'I'm The Teacher And Know What Is Best' manner. "Nat, we can't-" He nearly swallowed his tongue as her nimble fingers slipped inside the waistband of his pants. "Natasha!"

"Yes, Steve?" she whispered as her fingers found and encircled him. His answer was a low, heartfelt moan before he tilted his head down to capture her luscious lips in a searing kiss. She twined her free arm around his neck, returning the kiss lustfully, as his own hand sneaked up underneath her short skirt to the heat between her legs, rubbing expertly against her melting core through the fabric of her panties.

He finally broke off the kiss when the need for oxygen became acute. Natasha threw her head back, her breath coming in little pants as she rubbed her breasts against his chest, the barrier of intervening clothing an irritant in both pleasurable and unpleasurable ways. He trailed kisses down her neck as his fingers slid underneath the soaking material covering her crotch. She inhaled sharply as his finger probed inside her and starbursts of pleasure shot through her brain. "Steve." she moaned, her own fingers tightening around his rock-hard shaft as her other hand snuck down to fumble with his zipper.

"Nat" he breathed, overcome with the intoxicating scent and taste of her. Never had anyone been so responsive, nor brought him to such swift arousal. He couldn't get enough of her, and last night was absolutely amazing. The rapidly dwindling rational part of his mind dimly registered the ringing of the class bell – which he was glad he didn't have a 5th period class - as Natasha's clever hands freed him from confinement and she pushed against his chest, sliding him back along the desk. It took considerable agility and flexibility to climb up on the desk without breaking contact with him, but Natasha was nothing if not in extremely good shape.

"God bless aerobics." she thought irrelevantly as she straddled him, her knees balancing her on the desk. Her skirt was bunched around her hips now, and Steve's lips again found hers.

Natasha was such in a lust-filled phase, she didn't hear the bell go off.

His talented fingers fell away as it became necessary for him to use one hand to brace himself upright on the desk. Feeling their loss, Natasha squirmed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as their tongues dueled in a blatantly carnal kiss. She could feel his hardening member against her leg, and shifted her pelvis to allow him access. His free hand cupped her ample bottom as he carefully guided her down on top of him, and they both sighed with twin moans of sheer pleasure as he slid into her smoothly, their bodies fitting together as if they'd been made for one another.

After a moment of utterly delicious completion and feeling more confident than the night before, Natasha began to pump her hips, slowly at first, savoring each moment as he moved in and out of her, and then more quickly as the urgency in both their bodies built to a fever pitch.

Her cries of pleasure were muffled by his shirt as she buried her face in his shoulder, some remote part of her still conscious of the need for concealment even as her body hummed with singing pleasure. Steve clamped his teeth down on his lower lip as he brought his hand around to touch her where their bodies came together, his skilled fingers finding her clitoris and pressing against it, sending shockwaves of ecstasy through her blood as she came to orgasm. With one final thrust he emptied himself into her, a soundless cry of rapture shooting from his lips.

He slumped back on the desk and she collapsed on top of him, both of them boneless and drained of energy. Natasha was the first to stir. She propped herself up on her elbows, emitting a little moan of pleasure as her movements embedded him inside her a bit more deeply. "Wow," she muttered, licking her dry lips.

Below her, Steve's mouth quirked in a wry, sated grin. "As much as I loathe to diminish my vocabulary in that way, I'd have to agree that wow just about covers it." He let out a sigh of regret as they slowly began to disentangle their limbs and Natasha reluctantly moved away from him. She stood back and straightened her clothing, shifting her panties and pulling the skirt back down. The dark, slick material shed wrinkles surprisingly well, and suddenly she again looked like an average high-school student, albeit one with a well-kissed mouth and hair in need of a comb.

Steve pushed himself up from the desk and rearranged his pants into some semblance of order. Luckily, they'd both worn dark clothing that day, the better to hide any tell-tale evidence. The enormity of what they'd just done hit both of them at the same time, and Steve's cheeks flushed red as Natasha's eyes widened.

"I can't believe we just did that in here," Natasha gasped through a sudden bout of the giggles. "Oh god, Steve,what were we thinking?"

"I'm very much afraid we weren't thinking at all." Steve admitted ruefully, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "We can't afford to do this Nat, anyone could have come in..." His voice trailed off as he regarded her seriously.

"I know," she sighed. "Guess we need to talk about ground rules, huh?" She pulled a brush out of her purse and attacked her tousled hair.

"We can do that tonight." He glanced up at the clock on the wall and let out a muffled 'damn'. "You're going to be late to class if you don't leave now. I'm sorry Nat, but it's gotten to the point where I probably shouldn't write excuse slips for you except in case of an emergency. Principal Fury has been especially obnoxious lately."

"No kidding," she muttered, tossing her brush back into her purse and glancing back up at him. "Do I look okay?" He nodded, smiling, and she darted forward to give him one last, swift kiss before turning to the door. "So I'll see you tonight, right? Is five o'clock okay? I have a couple of errands to run after school."

"Five o'clock," he agreed as she opened the door.

They both jumped when Clint's smiling face appeared in the opening.

"Hey, Nat!" he greeted her cheerfully, oblivious to their startled discomfort. "I know that you two are busy discussing art and what not, but if you're late for trig one more time, Fury is going to have puppies. Ready to go?"

She nodded, shooting one last glance toward Steve. "See you later," she whispered, a pleased, secretive half-smile curving her mouth momentarily. And then she was gone.

Steve sat back down on the desk, his fingers stealing to his lips, which still burned from her kiss.

* * *

Natasha blinked as she and her friends emerged into the sunlight from the shadowed depths of Marvel High. Behind her and a few steps to the left, Pepper grumbled something about incipient skin cancer and snapped on a pair of sunglasses.

"So are we hitting up Club Hydra tonight?" Clint wondered to the group at large, though his gaze flickered toward Laura.

"I can't." Natasha immediately replied, ducking her head to fiddle with her purse strap. "I have some errands to run and then St-" her gaze caught on Maria and she swallowed, "Uh, I have meet Mr. Rogers again to continue my art project, he is letting me use his art studio here at school later." She cleared her throat.

Maria caught the slip, though Clint didn't, he was occupied staring at Laura. "I think I forgot something in my locker," she muttered hurriedly. "Want to come, uh, help me get it, Clint?"

"Sure!" He replied completely oblivious to the situation.

The twosome set off back toward the school building, and Laura fixed Natasha with a concerned stare. "What's going on, Nat"?

"It's nothing for you guys to worry about," she replied, unable to meet her eyes. She bit her lip. "Look, I'm going to be working on the project with Mr. Rogers tonight, that's all. This project is worth half my grade, and he wants it to be prefect. You guys have fun at the Club." Laura frowned, puzzled, it wasn't often that Natasha didn't at least make a token protest in favor of having a social life.

"Hey, this isn't the way to your locker." Clint questioned.

Maria halted her steps and pushed Clint toward a quiet corner, "I'm I the only one noticing Natasha's weird behavior lately."? She exclaimed.

He shrugged, "She's just working on her project. Sue her for wanting a good grade."

Maria rolled her eyes, "Yes, I understand but Natasha is great at art, she doesn't need extra help from Mr. Rogers. She's his favorite student. If anyone needs extra help its me. I suck at art, but I don't see him going above and beyond for any other student."

"Just like you said, Nat is his favorite student, he just wants to push her to her greatest ability. If anything he's probably putting more pressure on Nat for her project to be great."

"But don't you find it weird that he wants her to use his studio later on tonight when no one is around"? She continued to push.

Clint sighed, " Maria, I think you're looking way too much into this. Mr. Rogers is a cool guy. A total Boy Scout. And I'm pretty sure he won't do anything out of the ordinary, if that's what you're your implying. Trust me, all their doing is just working on the project, believe me."

* * *

Natasha hefted the shopping bag in her hand against her leg and once again raised a hand to knock on the door in front of her. Again her fist paused in midair. "You have to do this, Natasha." She told herself firmly. "It's only fair. You owe him this much." She set her jaw determinedly and knocked on the door.

A rustling sound came from within, and the door opened a crack. Dark, gentle eyes peered out. "Natasha!" Bucky murmured in surprised welcome. "I wasn't expecting you."

He pulled the door wide and gestured for her to enter the shadowed apartment. She nodded her thanks and walked past him, moving skittishly to the side as he brushed against her in passing. He stiffened. "Are we still fighting?" he asked in a quiet voice.

She bit her lip as she studied the interior of the darkened apartment, with its stark, modern decoration so at odds with the true age of the man who inhabited it. The first time she'd seen it she thought it was the most romantic place on Earth, and a perfect match for the compelling, tragic man that meant so much to her. Because she was going to hurt the man who had given her that haven, and she dreaded the coming minutes more than anything.

Natasha squared her shoulders, inhaled deeply, and turned to face him. "No," she replied emphatically. "We aren't fighting."

He studied her silently for a moment. "But we're not making up, either, are we?" he concluded in an even tone. "Why are you here, Natasha?"

She gazed up at him, taking in the smooth planes of his handsome countenance, and she again felt the winsome tug of attraction that had drawn her to him from the very first. He looked so lost and vulnerable, and yet so strong. She cleared her throat. "I came to say goodbye," she whispered.

He blinked once and turned away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I see," he murmured, his expression bleak.

"You were always the one who said this couldn't work out, Bucky," she reminded him a bit desperately. "That it's too hard, and we're too different. I'm just finally agreeing with you."

His lip quirked in a wry, pained half-smile though his eyes were dark with misery. "I was sort of hoping that I would be the one who was wrong."

She blinked back unshed tears. "I'm sorry."

He regarded her silently for a long moment. "Is there someone else?" he asked finally.

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, she flinched and ducked her head. "That's not what this is about," she mumbled finally, her throat tight with emotion. "I can't do this anymore, Bucky. It hurts too much."

The moments ticked by, and the only sound in the room was the harsh reverberation of Natasha's breathing. If she had closed her eyes, she could have almost pretended he wasn't there. .

He regarded her silently, his face a mask of misery, loneliness and understanding. He nodded slightly and turned away, his shoulders slumping.

Choking back a sob, Natasha bolted toward the door, her hair flying out behind her. The bag in her hand banged against her leg with every step. She didn't stop running until she burst from the dark alcove into the sunlight, and then she crumpled to the ground next to an old oak tree, crying bitter, angry tears...for the man she'd left behind...and for herself.

* * *

"Hey." Sharon Carter greeted Steve in a cheerful voice as she pushed open the double doors that led into the class room.

Steve dropped a stack of papers onto the tabletop with suddenly nerveless fingers. "Sharon," he said, turning to favor her with a somewhat sickly smile. "Thank you for coming."

"You called, I came," she agreed equably, plopping into a chair in a passable imitation of a teenager. "What's up?"

He stuttered as he gathered up his volumes. "It's, well, um...it's personal."

"Ooh," she purred, rising from the chair with feline grace and reaching for his tie. She pulled him toward her, a seductive smile on her lips. "That sounds intriguing."

Gently he extricated the tie from her hand and retreated behind the relative safety from behind his desk. "It's not," he replied, flushing as he realized how nonsensical he sounded. "I –" He closed his eyes and shook his head.

The smile fell from Carter's face as she studied his grim expression. "What's wrong, Steve?" Her eyes narrowed with concern. "Is this about us? Is this about Friday?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He took a deep breath and raised his gaze to meet hers. "There isn't going to be any Friday," he said finally. "Not for us, I mean."

She blinked, confused. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Sharon." He said softly. "I don't know how to say this. I'm not very good at it, I never have been."

She compressed her lips. "The ol' brush-off, you mean?" she asked, her voice ironic. "Is that what's going on here, Steve?"

He looked pained. "I wouldn't put it that way, no."

All traces of humor disappeared from her face. "But you are ending our 'relationship' aren't you?" Audible hurt laced her tone.

He closed his eyes. "I realize that I have been incredibly unfair to you, Sharon, I led you to believe that there was something between us."

"What are you trying to say here?"

His fingers gripped a stray pencil tightly as he stared blindly down at the desktop. "I'm saying there can't be an us, Sharon," he said finally. "It's just...not a good idea. Not possible."

"Why not?" she demanded. "This is completely out of the blue, Steve. What's changed since last Friday?"

"More than you'll ever know" Steve's mind supplied silently, though he knew he could never reveal to her what had happened between he and Natasha. "I just want to focus on work and my students, Sharon. I don't need distractions." He offered a bit desperately after a moment.

"I'm not trying to come between you and your work." she pointed out with some asperity. "But, God Steve, there has to be a part of you that isn't a teacher twenty-four hours a day. You can't let it take over your entire life!"

"Art is my life!" he retorted with a lot more passion than he'd intended to reveal. Sharon took an involuntary step backward, stunned by the intensity in his voice, but then she stepped forward again to lay a hand on his arm.

Her voice echoed compassionate sincerity. "That's not true Steve and if you believe it, then this situation is a lot more unhealthy than I thought."

"You don't understand," Steve said, pulling his arm away. "You can't possibly and I don't want to discuss this with you anymore."

Her lips thinned angrily as she studied his mutinous expression. "Fine," she snapped, snatching up her purse. "I just hope that in your quest to become the most dedicated Teacher in history, you don't ruin anyone's life in the process." He flinched, almost imperceptibly, but she caught it, and a flash of satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. "See you around the faculty lounge, Rogers." she offered as a parting shot, before sailing out the door.

Steve exhaled gustily and slumped back against the wall. Her final words had stung him more than he wanted to admit. "I won't," he muttered fiercely under his breath. "I won't hurt Natasha! I swear it on my life!" But her words remained, burned into his brain. The pencil in his fingers strained, then snapped in two.

* * *

"Bye, Mom," Natasha yelled up the stairs as she was leaving the house. She slammed the front door behind her before her mother could reply, or worse, come down the stairs to bid her daughter goodbye in person. As behind the times in fashion as her mother was, Natasha didn't think she'd believe that a spandex tank top and a pair of black tight leggings constituted stylish attire for the club, which was where she believed Natasha was going that evening, with a possible overnight stay at Maria's afterward.

A Cheshire grin lit Natasha's face as she pondered the actual sleeping arrangements she was hoping for in the coming evening, or non sleeping arrangements, as the case may be. Still smiling, she hefted her duffle bag over her shoulder and turned to skip down the front porch steps. The sight of Clint and Laura brought her up short, and the look of anticipation fled her face, to be replaced by an expression of cool, blank inquiry.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, then frowned at Laura, suddenly realizing how odd the other girl's presence truly was.

Laura grimaced, chagrined. 'Gotta be more careful about this' she mentally noted, wondering why she hadn't hesitated when Clint had asked her for a ride. "Well, Clint needed to see you," she added, rolling her eyes.

Clint shot a glare toward Laura, then turned back to Natasha, a deep concern evident in his furrowed brow. "Yeah, well, I wanted to ask if you changed your mind about going to the Club tonight. Don't you think you could use a break? I mean, you have been working on the project for sometime with Mr. Rogers. I'm surprised he doesn't need time to heal."

Color suffused Natasha's cheeks, despite her best efforts. She knew Clint had no idea what had really happened the previous evening, but the situation was too new for her to deal with it with any sort of equanimity. He seemed oblivious to her reactions, but Laura was regarding her strangely. "Well, you know how it is," Natasha muttered uncomfortably under her breath, "An Artists' work is never done and all that stuff. Mr. Rogers just wants to make sure I'm not going to screw it up. It's no big deal."

Clint didn't look as though he were buying it. "Are you sure?" Ever since his talk with Maria, he's now had his doubts, although very minuscule.

Laura huffed a martyred sigh, irritated that he seemed determined to beat this to death. "She said don't worry about it, Clint. I think she and Mr. Rogers can handle whatever's going on without your help, don't you?"

His jaw clenched, and Laura felt a momentary pang of guilt for her harsh tone.

"Can we drop you off at school, Natasha?" Laura offered.

Natasha shook her head. "No, thanks I can walk, I need the exercise. You guys have a good time at the Club, though. Tell Maria, Pepper and Tony I said 'Hi'." With that, she hefted the duffle bag over her shoulder and set off down the sidewalk.

Clint bit his lip, his eyes dark with concern. "Something's wrong, Laura." he said finally, his tone serious, and just a little bit scary. "I know it. Something's really, really wrong."

* * *

Steve opened the door promptly at her knock, and Natasha spent a brief second pondering the difference in her feelings at this moment as opposed to her dread at Bucky's that afternoon. She grinned up at her teacher as her eyes roamed over his chest. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, the tie long discarded.

"Hi," she greeted him softly, just a tiny bit shy.

He smiled down at her, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Hello. Come in."

Natasha stepped inside, struck by the odd sense of familiarity the room held for her, in spite of the fact that she could have counted her visits on one hand before the previous evening. The décor was nothing like her mother's house, or Bucky's apartment.

She walked into the kitchen and paused next to the dining table. "I brought you something," she told him, reaching inside her duffle bag for another sack.

His eyebrows flew up. "You did?"

She grinned at him and held the bag out. "Yup. Something you need. Trust me."

"Always," he replied teasingly, though she could hear the commitment behind his words. He held the bag awkwardly, and suddenly Natasha wondered if it were because he was not accustomed to receiving gifts.

"Natasha?" Steve withdrew the contents of her package.

She smiled over the expression on his face. "It's a new art set, I noticed yours were old and outdated, so I bought you these." She smiled.

He pondered her offering, amused and touched by her thoughtfulness. "Yes, well, I must admit, the condition of my supplies aren't great."

Natasha laughed. They grinned companionably at each other for a moment, before her eyes took on a dangerous gleam. She reached for the top fastened button on his shirt and undid it slowly.

He groaned and stepped back, holding up a hand to forestall her following him. "I don't think so. We really must work out, Natasha."

Natasha's lip quirked and she widened her eyes in sham innocence. "That's what I was suggesting. A workout." She winked.

He chuckled. "Very funny. I'll be right back." He turned down the hallway that led to the bedroom. "Oh, and Nat," he added, leaning back out the door and waving a hand toward a small box in the center of the dining table. "I got you something, too. Go ahead and open it."

She slowly reached for the small box. It wasn't wrapped. She licked her lips, suddenly nervous, as she pried the lid away. Inside lay a keyring with a single gleaming silver key. She swallowed. "Steve, is this what I think it is?"

His voice was muffled. "If you think it's a key to my house, then it's what you think it is." He appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, clad in the t-shirt and sweatpants, barefoot and hair-mussed. He regarded her with no little trepidation. "Unless you don't want it."

She swallowed again, trying to get past the sudden lump in her throat. "I want it," she whispered, looking up at him with shining eyes. "I want it. Thank you so much, Steve."

His smile was relieved as he reached out to gently caress her cheek. "You're welcome. Thank you for my new art supplies and the equipment's in the backyard. Shall we begin?" For some time Steve and Natasha would spar, Natasha found him in the school gym one day after school beating up a punching bag. That's where he learned that Natasha had taken kickboxing lessons since she was little. So, occasionally they would spar together at his house. This was many other reasons why they grew close to one another.

* * *

Clint turned the corner and started down the sidewalk that led down Mr. Rogers street, which was lined with widely-spaced small frame houses. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, silently fuming that Laura had refused to accompany him to confront Natasha – she was supposed to be his girlfriend - after they'd discovered that neither of them were at school.

"She lied to us," he'd said.

"Well in her defense, she never took an oath to tell you every single detail about her life, Clint. Why are you so obsessed with her?" Clint heard Laura's voice in his head.

His anger had prevented him from hearing the slight tinge of jealousy in her voice and the resulting argument had consigned him to more pedestrian modes of transportation.

"I don't care what Laura says," he muttered darkly to himself as he approached the facade of brown siding and brick house. Clint had actually ran into Ms. Carter and asked her if Mr. Rogers was there, but all she said was, 'probably with his art supplies somewhere'. Then Clint asked her where can he be reached and although it's against school policy, but Sharon was still pissed off that she gave him his address instead. Oh how lucky.

"If she's not here, then maybe Mr. Rogers can tell me what's going on with her." Clint knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. He stood on the front porch for a moment, pondering what he should do. The sun was beginning to set, and he had about half an hour before roaming the streets would become really unsafe. As he considered his options, a muffled curse caught his attention. "Maybe they're out back" he turned toward the side of the house.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked worriedly, reaching forward to help Steve up from the ground. Usually she savored her moments of triumph over her teacher as small instances of personal control in a life lived under too many of his rules. But things were different now.

"I'm fine," Steve murmured ruefully, rubbing his bruised backside. "You've gotten much better with that right hook, maybe we should call it an evening." He groaned.

"Sure," she agreed, eyes gleaming devilishly. "I've been practicing my spin-kicks. I can do ten in a row without stopping or losing my balance now."

Steve raised a skeptical brow and Natasha grinned cheerfully at him. "You wanna bet on it?"

Clint peered through a knothole in the dilapidated wooden fence, letting out a relieved sigh as he beheld Natasha and Mr. Rogers in the midst of a spar session. "Huh, if she was only working out with Mr. Rogers than why didn't she say so." he concluded.

Meanwhile, Natasha had begun a frenzied welter of spin-kicks, her body rotating so quickly that it was almost a blur. Her foot connected with the leather padding of the punching bag.

Clint's eyes widened appreciatively and he swallowed the greeting on the tip of his tongue, unwilling to interrupt. It was always a privilege to see Natasha like this. She was really something else.

Two more kicks and she was done. She fell back into a defensive crouch, her breath coming in small pants. "Well?" she challenged Steve.

He smiled fondly down at her. "You were right. I'm very impressed." The teacher's voice held a note Clint had never heard before, and he felt a sudden flutter of nervousness in his stomach, which became a full-blown tornado when Natasha replied in kind.

"I win," she said in a tone of complete and utter satisfaction. "And now I get to claim my prize."

Clint watched as Natasha and Mr. Rogers stared at one other, breathing hard, the tension between them stretching out into taut bonds of electricity, crackling and dangerous. "Name your forfeit, then," Steve managed to say between rapid breaths. "What is it you want?"

A small, Mona Lisa grin appeared on Natasha's lips. "You know what I want Steve." she purred in a seductive voice. A voice Clint had never heard her use before, except in his dreams. And she was certainly never using it to speak to the teacher, he thought indignantly.

She swayed toward Steve, her hair fanning out behind her in the breeze. She reached out to pluck the workout pads from his hands and tossed them aside. He rubbed his arms where the straps had abraded, his gaze never leaving her upturned face.

She put her hands on her hips in a passable imitation, "You have to stand still, hands behind your back, for five minutes. No moving," she ordered.

Steve swallowed. "Why does that request make me distinctly nervous?" he asked as he complied, clasping his hands loosely behind him.

"I don't know," she replied, licking her lips. "Why do you think?"

A wry smile twitched his lips. "Because you have the most damnably inventive imagination of anyone I've ever met, perhaps?"

She moved closer to him, until their bodies were only inches apart. Moisture gleamed on her fair skin, running in rivulets down the front of her black spandex workout top to pool between her breasts. A comfortable heat was burning between her legs. The answering spark in Steve's eyes was very...stimulating.

"Is it a deal?" she whispered. "Or are you a coward?"

He tilted his head down until his mouth was inches from her forehead. "Never," he whispered back. The hot feel of his breath against her skin made her heart hammer.

The muscles in Clint's legs were screaming protests at him for remaining in the same position for so long, but he couldn't make himself move, he couldn't tear himself away from the hole in the fence and the amazing, improbable, inexplicable sight he beheld through it. He watched, dry-mouthed, as Natasha reached out to run her palms across his chest. His response was a low, inarticulate moan, but he remained obediently immobile.

"Very good," She complimented him, moving her hands lower. She worked the bottom of the shirt out from under the waistband of the sweatpants and pulled it upward over his head and down behind his shoulders, leaving his hardened chest exposed, while trapping his arms behind his back. "No," she admonished, when he moved to divest himself of it entirely by pulling his arms out of the sleeves. "Leave it there. You won't be needing your arms...not right now, anyway."

"Really." The dry, exquisitely irony of the reply was spoiled by the his obviously labored breathing.

She leaned forward and licked his chest, savoring the salty male taste of him, as she ran her hands up and down his sweatpants-clad thighs. Clint's eyes nearly popped out of his head. 'What is she doing' he asked himself, though the answer was perfectly clear. He felt as though he'd stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone, where everyone had been taken over by the Pod People. Natasha Romanov seducing the School Teacher? The student ravishing the teacher? Impossible... Inconceivable... Utterly inconceivable, because he was now actually watching the inconceivable happen...and he could not bring himself to look away.

Natasha hooked her thumbs underneath the waistband of His sweatpants and stood on her tip-toes to give him a long, thorough, spine-tingling kiss. He leaned into her, her tongue with his in a sinful way, frustrated by his inability to bring her closer. When they finally paused for breath, his scattered thoughts coalesced into a protest of her restrictions. "Natasha-"

"Shhh..." she said, bringing one hand up to place an admonishing finger to his lips. Her other hand dipped inside the waistband of the pants and his blue silk boxers, a fascinating garment with which she hoped to further her acquaintance. Her nimble fingers found and encircled him, occasioning another low moan of obvious pleasure. Unconsciously, he thrust toward her, and she rubbed her body against his obligingly as she captured his lips in another kiss, her other hand curving behind his neck to press him to her.

Clint's vision began to swim, and, abruptly, he realized he'd stopped breathing. He inhaled deeply, his mind racing frantically. 'Stop this! I have to stop this!' What he was watching was wrong and completely, utterly, totally wrong! Natasha could not want Mr. Rogers! And he could not want Natasha, that's his student!

But they quite obviously did want each other, and the sheer novelty of that discovery prevented him from calling out to them. He watched as Natasha's hand moved from the prominent evidence of Steve's desire around his hip to his backside, underneath the cloth of his sweatpants. She ground her pelvis into him, her hand pressing against his buttocks to increase the pressure. The muscles in his neck revealed the strain he was under as only sheer willpower stayed his hands behind his back.

Suddenly Natasha released her hold on his neck and withdrew her hand, stepping away from him. Clint let out a sigh of relief. 'Maybe she changed her mind, maybe whatever demon has possessed her body has let her go'. He could no longer see her face, just the rippling muscles of her back hidden underneath a curtain of red hair and the black material of her stretch top. He could just make out Mr. Rogers flushed face over her shoulder; the man in no way resembled the mild-mannered, slightly nerdy art teacher to whom he'd become accustomed.

Natasha and Steve regarded each other with blazing eyes, panting softly. Slowly Natasha crossed her arms in front of her chest and gripped the edge of her top, drawing it up over her head and flinging it to the side. Steve's breath stopped as he beheld her, standing tall and straight and proud. Her high, full breasts puckered invitingly in the gentle breeze, and his throat went dry at the thought of touching her. He needed so much to touch her.

Clint wrenched his gaze away from the knothole in the fence, unable to watch any more, incapable of accepting what he knew was coming. He rolled to the side and rose up on his knees, gasping as if he'd just run a marathon. He crawled across the grass and leaves, unmindful of any noise he made, and when he reached the corner of the house he leapt to his feet and took off at a dead run, as if by using all the speed he could muster he'd somehow manage to outdistance the images burned in his mind.

 **A/N: So, there is the end! Just kidding, just the first part. But Ohh Clint found out the dirty secret! :O This isn't going to be a full story, just 1 or 2 more LONG chapters to go. I really hope you guys enjoyed this and sorry once again for any mistakes! Drop a review to let me know what you think Clint will do! Till next time :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So sorry for the delay, but to make things short, life just happened.**

 **But also a huge thanks to the people who have read the story, you guys are fantastic :)**

 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything :(**

* * *

 _Natasha and Steve regarded each other with blazing eyes, panting softly. Slowly Natasha crossed her arms in front of her chest and gripped the edge of her top, drawing it up over her head and flinging it to the side. Steve's breath stopped as he beheld her, standing tall and straight and proud. Her high, full, delicious breasts puckered invitingly in the gentle breeze, and his throat went dry at the thought of touching her. He needed so much to touch her._

 _Clint wrenched his gaze away from the knothole in the fence, unable to watch any more, incapable of accepting what he knew was coming. He rolled to the side and rose up on his knees, gasping as if he'd just run a marathon. He crawled across the grass and leaves, unmindful of any noise he made, and when he reached the corner of the house he leapt to his feet and took off at a dead run, as if by using all the speed he could muster he'd somehow manage to outdistance the images burned in his mind._

Natasha and Steve didn't hear his departure. Steve's lustful gaze roamed her beloved figure, and when he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, he swallowed with difficulty and posed one, pained, heartfelt question. "Has it been five minutes yet?" he asked achingly, his voice roughened by passion.

"Almost," Natasha whispered, stepping toward him again. She rubbed her palms down her sweat-slick torso to the waistband of her sweatpants, the muscles of her abdomen rippling. Slowly, enticingly, she inched them down her legs, taking the practical pair of cotton panties with them. The cool breeze against her moist, throbbing center aroused her further, and she looked up to see Steve's gaze devouring her greedily, his eyes dark inky pools of desire.

She kicked the pants away and stood before him for a moment, allowing him to drink his fill, enjoying the feeling of utter abandon that came from being outdoors, unclothed, and in the presence of the man she loved. She stepped forward and placed her hands on his waist, inching his own pants down over his hips, then kneeling to tug them still further. She looked up to find herself face to face with his straining manhood, and her breath caught at his proximity.

She rocked back on her heels and looked up at him, gesturing wordlessly at his feet. Obligingly he kicked the pants away, and then he stood nude before her, except for the black t-shirt that still entrapped his arms. He waited, his body tensing, to see what she would do next.

Natasha's gaze inched down his frame until she was again studying the jutting member before her. Fragments from books her mother had forbidden her to read raced through her mind, and the thought of leaning forward and taking him into her mouth tantalized her. But as bold and uninhibited as she was feeling, she hadn't quite reached that point yet. 'Maybe next time' she thought ruefully as she rose to her feet. She could see the mild disappointment in Steve's eyes, mixed with the glitter of future anticipation, an exact mirror of her own feelings. They smiled at the same moment, and she reached her arms up to encircle his chest and grab the t-shirt. Pulling it down off of his arms, she flung it away, where it floated to a rest next to her discarded sweatpants. Steve studied her intently, as if attempting to memorize every feature, his hands still clasped behind his back, white-knuckled with the strain.

She reached up and locked her fingers behind his neck. "Brace yourself," she murmured, before jumping up and wrapping her powerful legs around his waist. He moaned low in his throat and buried his head in the curve of her neck, raining kisses down her shoulder. She could feel him harden beneath her.

"Steve" she muttered thickly as she threw her head back to allow him greater access.

His lips traveled down her collarbone to her chest, licking and sucking greedily. "Hmmm?"

Her voice was almost a whisper. "It's been five minutes."

His reaction was immediate and explosive, his arms coming around to crush her to his chest. The power of that fusion staggered him backwards until his back hit the siding of the house. The friction of the rough wood on one side and Natasha's silken softness on the other drove him wild.

She strained against his chest, rubbing her breasts back and forth against his bare chest as her lips devoured every inch of his face. His hands roamed down to cup her bare buttocks, pressing them inward against his heated core. Slowly he slid into her as she squeezed the muscles of her inner thighs, sending fireworks of pleasure exploding through his body.

Tentatively she began to ride him, her ankles locked behind him, braced against the wood. The pace grew more frenzied as the tension built, the air growing heavy with the soft slap of skin against skin and the music of their low moans.

"Oh, Steve" Natasha groaned, her fingers roaming up and down his back. One of his hands supported her backside, rubbing and squeezing the soft cheeks, while the other interposed itself between them, moving downward to seek her molten core, and finding the center of her pleasure.

She bucked and heaved against him. "Steve"! she screamed, the crescendo in her ears building to a fever pitch as she teetered on the edge.

The last thing she heard before descending into sweet, utter oblivion was his low cry. "I love you, Natasha"And then the volcano of desire between them erupted, and all thought ceased, leaving only exquisite, pounding feeling.

* * *

One week later.

Laura sat slumped in a chair in the library, idly wondering when her life had veered so horribly off-track. Here it was, a beautiful late-spring Friday afternoon slowly wending its way into evening, and she was studying in the library of all places, while her boyfriend indulged one of his favorite - and most annoying - obsessions right in front of her.

Natasha hawk-watching.

It would have been funny if it weren't so humiliating.

Laura sighed loudly, but none of the other occupants in the library seemed to notice.

Finally, Laura decided to give up any pretense at subtlety. "Clint" she hissed angrily, leaning over so Natasha couldn't hear her. "What is your problem"?

Clint finally turned to look at her, and his blank expression was possibly even more infuriating than his brooding one. "What?"

"What is with you?" she asked, exasperated.

Clint scowled and looked down at his math textbook, which had been open to the same two pages since Natasha entered the library nearly an hour ago. "Nothing," he replied sullenly.

She slammed her own book shut and shot up out of her chair, glaring down at him with all the outrage she could muster. "That's it! I don't know what pod-person has taken over your body, but as of this moment, I officially don't care. Have a nice life hawk-boy!"

"Wait," he protested, grabbing her arm to prevent her from leaving. "Where are you going?"

She rolled her eyes. "Look, I hate to break it to you, but I don't get the same thrill out of seeing Natasha studying as you do. God, Clint, even Tony and Pepper blew this place hours ago, and they're smart. Why are we here"?

He didn't meet her gaze. "Exam," he mumbled unconvincingly. "Study...you know..."

"Yeah? Well, study this." she retorted, yanking her arm from his grasp. "I'm going to the club tonight! If you'd still like to have a girlfriend tomorrow night you might try showing up."

"Sounds like you'd better go, Clint," Natasha put in cheerfully as she bounded up to the table for a fluid break. "It's not like you guys need to hang, I'll be here a little while longer." She drank deeply from her water-bottle.

Clint turned his glare on Natasha, who knew she was only staying longer to see Mr. Rogers and the minute he will leave, she will go to him. "Yeah, right," he intoned sarcastically.

"Are you all right, Clint"? Natasha asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked down at him. "You've been acting kind of like a zombie for days now."

Laura glanced from Natasha's bewildered face to Clint's set expression and grew more confused by the minute.

"I'm fine," Clint snapped, clapping his book shut and rising from his chair. "Let's go, Laura." He spun on his heel and headed for the door, without looking back to see if she were following.

Natasha and Laura traded worried glances. "I'll be leaving in a bit," Natasha said after a moment. "Also, I have stuff tonight. Are you-"

"I'll deal with him," Laura replied, sighing and rolling her eyes. She gathered up her books, all the while mumbling under her breath, "Why am I dating him again? Oh, yeah, 'tawdry teen lust."

Natasha grinned as Laura's querulous words followed her out of the library. Natasha quickly gathering her stuff before hoisting her bag over her shoulder. She had a teacher to see. She smirked as she left the library and headed towards the bathroom first, she had to change. She had a man to please.

* * *

Laura rounded the hallway corner and stifled a scream as a hand shot out and clamped on her arm. "Clint Barton!" she hissed, trying to catch her breath, "Don't do that."

Clint had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry, Laura" He glanced over her shoulder. "Where's Natasha"?

"Where's Natasha"? Laura mimicked nastily, more hurt than angry. "I'm sorry, Clint, but I don't know, since I don't seem to possess your keen Natasha-radar. What's the strategy here? You think maybe if you drool on her long enough, she'll realize that she loves you? I mean, now that your competition, Bucky is apparently out of the-"

"This is serious," he said, cutting her off. "Where did she go?"

Laura glanced up at the ceiling. "She said she was going to stay a while longer," she informed him pedantically, as though she were speaking to a small, not-very-bright child. "Why ever do you care?"

Clint looked up and down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear "Come on," he said, tugging on her arm as he retraced his steps back toward the library.

Laura considered refusing, but something in his voice made her think that this wasn't a run-of-the-mill Clint flake- out. "I'm coming," she grumbled, setting off behind him. 'Why did I fall in love with him again'?

* * *

Natasha smoothed her curling hair as she pushed open Mr. Rogers classroom doors, feeling fresh and full of energy. She was wearing the new outfit she and Pepper had found at the mall the previous week, a tight halter an incredibly short skirt combo that Pepper had deemed a definite 'boykiller' and a guaranteed 'never-show-to- Mom'. Not that she had any idea of the identity of the male Natasha wanted to impress - Natasha had a sneaking suspicion that Pepper was thinking along the lines of a Bucky-reconciliation. She hated more than anything that she was deceiving her best friend, but that was how it had to be for now, and she accepted that.

She wondered how Steve would like the outfit.

"Steve"? she called as she crossed over to his desk and turned on the radio, that Steve has. Something low and sexy issued forth from the speakers, and she turned to scan the class for any sign of him.

"Right here," he replied in a muffled voice as he exited the door of his office, his nose buried in a book. "I've found something most interesting…" His voice cut off abruptly, followed by an audible gulp, as soon as he looked up at her.

'Score one for Pepper' Natasha thought, grinning. She struck a sexy pose. "You like?"

His lips pursed in a soundless whistle. "Ah-...yes, I like." He began to smile. "I very much like."

She walked over to him and removed the book from his unprotesting fingers. "I bought it with you in mind," she purred seductively, depositing the book on the counter and drawing him out into the open floor by pulling on his tie. "Let's dance."

Steve took her into his arms willingly enough, but his smile turned slightly rueful. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancer," he replied, gazing down at her affectionately. "Unless you'd like a waltz or something similar."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, rubbing her silk clad breasts against his chest. "Move with the times, Steve. Sometimes I feel like your from the forty's or something." she murmured in low voice, grinding her pelvis against him. He moaned. "I think maybe you just need a good teacher."

His hands traveled down her back to cup her rounded buttocks. He pulled her up against him, and she could feel his heated arousal against her thigh. She planted soft kisses against his neck as he struggled to marshal enough wits to answer her offer. "I think that is a marvelous idea..."

* * *

"Clint, where are we going?" Laura demanded, exasperated. "We just left the library."

"I know," Clint muttered under his breath, proceeding stealthily down the hallway. "For once in your life, be quiet, will you? Just do what I do."

"Not even," she murmured, rolling her eyes as she crept along behind him. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but shut it again as he waved her back against the wall. They were just outside of the library.

Clint peeked through the small window on the door entry to the library. "I fucking knew it." He muttered.

Laura frowned upon hearing him. "What's going on"?

Clint motioned to look inside the library. She took a peek herself and there was no sign of Natasha or her stuff. "Huh, didn't she say that she was staying a bit longer, we just left. Where is she"?

"I have a hunch." Clint grabbed her arm and dragged her towards Mr. Rogers room.

As they got closer, Clint knelt down and shuffled forward soundlessly, motioning for her to follow him. Slowly, carefully, he inched the door open a few centimeters...and a few centimeters more. He pressed his eye up against the newly created gap, and Laura, curious, followed his lead.

The sight that met her eyes was inexplicable, and she barely remembered to stifle her automatic gasp. Mr. Rogers and Natasha were dancing in the classroom - and not cotillion dancing, the only way Laura would have imagined Mr. Rogers knew how, but sexy dancing - with hands and fingers and mouths everywhere, and no daylight to be seen between them. Laura squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but the picture remained the same. Natasha was frenching the teacher.

Clint's pinch brought her out of her reverie, and they made their way back down the hallway. Laura managed to hold her tongue until they'd actually exited the school building. "What was that"?! she burst out incredulously the moment the door swung shut behind them. "Natasha-...Mr. Rogers-..." she sputtered. "Natasha and The teacher."!?

Clint collapsed on one of the benches that lined the sidewalk to the front entrance. He nodded grimly. "Natasha and Mr. Rogers," he confirmed, closing his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his neck tiredly. "God, Laura, What am I going to do?"

* * *

Natasha could feel the heat burning through her body as she and Steve swayed back and forth to the music from the radio. They'd long ago given up any pretense at dance steps or rhythm, in favor of clinging to one another as though their two bodies were fused into one being. She felt an ache between her legs radiating outward and upward, filling her with a yearning to get even closer to him, as close as two people could possibly be. "Steve..." she murmured longingly, nuzzling his neck.

"Natasha" he replied in an aching voice. "It's not safe to do this here..." The protest was faint, but not halfhearted. Steve was all too aware of the dangers they faced if they were discovered.

"Everyone's gone" she whispered persuasively. "We could go into your office..."

"We made ground rules" he objected plaintively, nevertheless allowing her to pull him along in her wake. She paused momentarily to snag the radio and grinned at him over her shoulder.

"We made those rules after a quickie on your desk during my lunch hour," she reminded him saucily. "And as much fun as it was, I think the rule against that one's gonna have to stand - though the odds against an actual student coming to your office right now are slim to none." Her grin widened wickedly. "But this situation is nothing like that one, babe, so follow me."

Steve stepped inside the office and shut the door behind them, the audible clicking of the lock a nonverbal acquiescence to her point. "If you insist," he replied, the martyr quality of his put-upon tone spoiled by the heightened color in his cheeks.

She pulled him toward her for a quick, hard kiss, then licked her lips provocatively. "Oh, I do, Steve. I really, really do..." She placed the radio on a spare corner of the desk and slipped off her black ankle boots, stepping toward him on bare feet.

Steve reached out to trail suggestive fingers down her bare arm, smiling slightly at the track of goosebumps created in the wake of his touch. "Shall we try the desk again?" he murmured huskily, his eyes glinting with humor and desire. "Or would you prefer the couch?"

Natasha glanced at both surfaces, which were piled high with precarious stacks of students' art work he needed to grade. "Aren't you worried about mixing up everything"?

His callused palm caressed her breast through the thin silk of her halter, and she drew in a ragged breath. "I'll risk it," he whispered, leaning down to give her a slow, drugging kiss.

When they drew apart, they were both breathing heavily. "I have an idea," Natasha said. She took both of his hands and led him over to the chair behind the desk - it was old, armless, and padded, a concession to Steve's tendency to have accidents with more modern rolling office equipment. It fitted Natasha's image of him - somewhat battered and careworn, but unbowed.

"Natasha"? he questioned, a note of amusement in his tone.

"Sit here" she commanded, pointing at the chair. She bit back a snort of amusement as he did what he was told, scooting the chair back from behind the desk and gazing up at her expectantly.

Natasha stood in front of him, arms akimbo. "You did say you liked my new outfit, didn't you?" she murmured, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Steve nodded, swallowing audibly.

She leaned forward slightly, giving him a good view of her cleavage. She licked her lips again, and watched his eyes widen. "Would you like to see what's underneath it?"

He smiled and nodded again, reaching up to encircle her waist with his hands. He cocked an eyebrow, asking permission, and when she grinned he took hold of the bottom of the halter and drew the silky material upward. His breath caught in his throat as he pulled it over her head, thus revealing that what she wore underneath...was nothing. Her breasts, freed from their minimal confinement, bobbed deliciously before him, and he brought his hands up to caress and pinch them gently. Natasha moaned low in her throat, swaying toward him, and he captured one pink peak with his lips. "Ahhh...Steve..."

He devoured her creamy, porcelain skin with his mouth and his tongue, leaving no portion of her chest untouched. She was writhing beneath his hands, straining to lean closer, until finally the position became too awkward and she had to break away. They stared into each other's eyes as the fires of desire flamed into an inferno. Natasha's hands went to the catch at the waistband of her skirt, and it fell to the floor, revealing that she wore as little underneath that garment as she had the other. Steve automatically pressed his palm to the curls between her legs, and Natasha's back arched as if a bolt of electricity slammed through her body. "Steve"! she cried. The moist heat of her center seared his hand, and she suddenly came against him, whimpering his name. It took long moments before her breathing calmed and she opened her eyes. Her grin was smugly self-satisfied. "I guess you did like my outfit."

Steve growled and pulled her toward him, his hand still caressing her intimately, and she obligingly straddled his lap, pulling his lips to hers for a carnal kiss. She felt incredibly decadent, sitting completely naked in the lap of her clothed lover, the moisture of her orgasm dripping down her thighs.

She could feel him through the rough material of his pants, straining against confinement. "It's your turn," she muttered against his lips, her breath catching as his dexterous fingers probed inward. "No," she chuckled softly. "Not yet." She was determined to return to him at least a portion of the pleasure he'd given her. She reached down between her legs and fumbled with his zipper, finally pulling it down only to meet the barrier of his underwear. She sighed deep in her throat as her fingers finally found him through the gap in their material. "Thank God for boxer shorts," she chuckled a bit unsteadily. Steve's only response was a low, heartfelt moan as she freed him, allowing the chill air of the office to meet his heated skin.

She hooked her feet on the sidebars of the chair and raised up in his lap, pressing his face against her breasts as she positioned herself over him. Slowly she impaled herself upon him, biting her lip to keep from crying out as he filled her to overflowing. He'd never been so deep before, and the pleasure had never been so achingly exquisite.

"Ride me," he whispered into her ear before kissing her nearly senseless. She rotated her hips experimentally and was rewarded by a shimmering starburst of pleasure. His callused hands caressed her sensitive breasts - the moist slap of skin and cloth repeated as she obeyed his command to her utmost ability. They were close, she could feel it, and then they both came at once, as Steve's life streamed into her and the starbursts became supernova inside her mind. He lifted her up one last time and she slammed down onto him, impaled so deeply that she felt as though he'd never truly leave her ever again.

* * *

Laura glared daggers at Clint as she paced back and forth down the sidewalk. "I can't believe you knew about this and didn't tell me!"

Clint winced at her heated tone. "I didn't want to believe it, all right?" he replied in a tired voice. "I wanted to believe it was some kind of mistake, but Maria planted a stupid seed of doubt in my head."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Just how did you find out, anyway?"

His face flushed, and he averted his gaze, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the door. "Like that." He swallowed uneasily. "Only worse."

Laura raised her eyebrows, "Worse?" Comprehension dawned. "Oh. Is that why you've been acting so strange"? She regarded him uncertainly. "Are you gonna tell Natasha that you know?"

"No!" He sounded terrified at the prospect.

"Then are you gonna tell ." she persisted.

Clint rolled his eyes and stood up from the bench. "Yeah, right. What good would that do? He's probably all proud that he banged his student. Maybe he even gets little extra points for it."

"Mr. Rogers is a nice guy and doesn't come off as arrogant." Cordelia protested, but she sounded more than a little doubtful. "And I mean, if they both want to, it's consensual, then…"

"She's seventeen years old, Laura"! Clint retorted. "And he's…he's not. Not to mention that it's illegal. It can be consensual but she's still under age."

"I'm seventeen" she reminded him. "Are you saying that if I want to have sex with you, someone has the right to say I can't?"

Momentarily distracted from his train of thought by the only thing that could possibly have accomplished it, Clint turned to look at her, his breath catching in his throat. "Do you?" he squeaked.

She ignored that, "It's also the same situation she was in while dating Bucky. I mean he is older than her by a couple years." She tried to reason.

"That's different, they didn't have sex."

"How do you know"? Laura questioned.

"Because, Natasha tells everything to Maria and Pepper, and Maria told me that they were close to having sex, but we're interrupted." He sighed.

Laura stared at him a moment, then shook her head slightly, "What are we going to do?"

Clint caught his girlfriend in a hug, suddenly grateful for the warmth of her embrace. Her use of the word 'we' raised his spirits immeasurably, even though he found her question unanswerable. "I don't know, Laura. I don't know."

* * *

"Mmmrmph," Natasha said into Steve's neck as she slowly came back to herself. She could taste the salty sweat of his skin against her lips, and she gave him an experimental lick.

"Mmmm...tasty." He shifted slightly in the chair, sending motes of pleasure through her limbs in response. He was still imbedded deep within her, lax now with spent passion, but it still gave her a delicious feeling of completeness. His hands roamed up and down her back, caressing her soft, bare skin. "I could stay here forever," she whispered.

"As could I," he agreed, his embrace tightening momentarily. "I love you, Natasha."

She felt a little thrill go through her, the same thrill she'd felt each of the precious few times he'd said those words to her. Their relationship was still too new for her to take those feelings for granted - if indeed she ever would, which was doubtful. She couldn't imagine that statement not affecting her deeply, no matter how many times she heard it. She pulled away a little, meeting his serious gaze with one of her own. "I love you too, Steve." she vowed, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips.

As if their words were a cue, she could feel the stirrings of reigniting passion from him. "Again?" she chuckled softly.

He smiled down at her, cupping his hands beneath her firm, smooth buttocks and levering himself up from the chair. The sudden movement caught her by surprise, and she clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist to ensure he didn't slip from her body. He staggered over to the couch and used one hand to sweep the stacks of books onto the floor. "Damn the papers," he muttered as they fell down on top of the cushions, with her on the bottom, their bodies still intimately joined. The jolt sent a shock of pleasure clear through her.

"I couldn't agree more," she concurred huskily as she pulled his lips to hers, her fingers tearing at the buttons on his shirt. Soon they were once again lost in a stormy sea of passion.

* * *

 **So, I hope you guys enjoyed and hopefully the next one will be up soon! Thanks - Until Next Time! :)**


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